


A Tale as Old as Time

by pandapresident



Category: XOXO Droplets (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandapresident/pseuds/pandapresident
Summary: The mysterious stranger JB meets at a ball will marry her on one condition: she also marry his best friend. His guardian does not think any of this is sufficient grounds for a single marriage, let alone two.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which JB gets engaged twice.

Once upon a time JB had enjoyed dances. It was, after all, an excellent opportunity to get to know eligible young bachelors and see them in their finest. Then she had gotten to know the eligible young bachelors and found each of them deficient in deficiencies. Each of them was on his best behaviour, desperate to win her hand and her heart. It became tedious. She still enjoyed the men on a superficial level (their bland personalities didn’t always ruin their looks for her) but the events were forever tarnished. No matter where she went, all she found were men on their best behaviour. It was sickening.

This latest ball was no different from the others. When men learned her name, word of her fortune had inevitably preceded her. That, combined with what she modestly acknowledged as her breath-taking good looks, meant that even the stoniest stranger was as malleable as mashed potatoes. Tasty, but she didn’t want to get her hands sticky with them.

She disengaged herself from conversation and went to take a breather on the balcony. The grounds were beautiful in that very generic way the gardens of the landed gentry: an expanse of fields, some flowers that an elderly gardener dedicated their life to tending, etc. JB had seen it all before and done better. She looked around, searching for something new, something that might salvage a terrible night.

She found it in a man scaling the wall house and pulling himself onto the balcony. His long white hair draped over his face as he swung a leg over the railing. He straightened up, swept his hair back, and noticed that he had an audience. He only indicated this by the slightest incline of his thick brows.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you’re not invited,” she said. He didn’t respond with words, but there was a ghost of a self-satisfied smile. “You’re not worried that I’ll call for the servants?”

“Do what you want,” he said.

“I want to find out who you are,” she said.

“No,” he said.

JB beamed. The night had been saved.

The mysterious intruder appeared at other dances after that. He never arrived through the front door, preferring to enter via windows, side entrances and, on one occasion, a secret passage. It became easier to wring words out of him and, on their third meeting, she even managed to learn his given name. He would give her nothing else: not his surname, where he lived, if he knew anyone at these events. She never saw him acknowledge anyone else; if he wasn’t with her, he would be skulking at the side of the room, refusing attempts at dancing and conversation.

“Why do you even come to these things?” she asked him, taking her now customary place beside him.

“Why do you?” he asked.

“Her highness demands it,” JB said. Pran didn’t say anything, but she could tell he didn’t believe her. “I’m serious! She says it’s crucial to the nation. I have to write reports.” Pran’s expression didn’t change. “If you come visit me I can show you the letters.”

“You could lie,” Pran said.

“Lie? To Queen Missy? That’s some form of treason. Besides, sometimes she sets Alicia on my trail without telling me, and nothing gets past that woman.” Pran didn’t say anything, but she could tell that he had accepted her answer. “Now it’s your turn. Why do you come?”

“I didn’t agree to tell you anything.”

“Then I’ll just have to guess,” JB said. She cast her eyes up to the ceiling and pondered. “You’re…here as a spy. No, a spy would attempt to fit in. Maybe you’re a burglar? No, it can’t be that; you’d make more of an effort not to be seen.” An outrageous idea popped into her head. “You’re here…to find a wife!”

Pran’s expression tightened. JB was stunned.

“Really?” she asked.

“What’s so preposterous about that?” Pran asked.

“You refuse to interact with anyone but me,” JB said. “And you barely do that.”

Pran looked pleased with himself. JB laughed.

“All right,” she said. Pran tilted his head in an unspoken question. “Pran, will you marry me?”

“No,” he said.

“Saw that coming,” JB said.

“Unless,” he continued, “You marry my friend as well.”

There were a great many things that were worth further investigation in that sentence. JB opted to concentrate on the most shocking of them.

“You have a friend? What’s he like?” Pran looked away. “Come on, you can’t really expect me to agree to marry someone I’ve never met without giving me any information.”

“I’ll answer one question,” Pran said. “Choose.”

“Fine,” JB said. How could she verify if this stranger, who she knew nothing about – other than that he was, somehow, against all odds, Pran’s friend – was someone she could tie herself to for life? What one question could give her enough to make a reasoned decision?

“Well?” Pran said.

“Is he handsome?” JB asked.

“Is that all you care about?”

“No, but it’s a crucial criteria that he must meet,” JB said. “And anyone who’s a friend of yours is bound to be interesting, so that’s my other criteria met.”

“You’re awful,” Pran said. JB nodded and awaited an actual answer to her question. “He’s not handsome. He’s enchanting and beautiful.”

“Ooh,” JB said, her eyes alight. “Yes, I can happily wed myself to that. So, will you marry me?”

 Pran nodded.

“Splendid. Let’s go meet my other future husband,” JB said.

The carriage ride to find Pran’s friend and JB’s fiancé-to-be was not an easy one. The driver had baulked when Pran gave the address. JB had smoothed it over in her usual fashion (i.e. throwing money at the problem until it went away) without bothering to check how long and difficult the road was going to be.

At first, the ardour of being engaged kept them both entertained. But despite JB’s promises to make him an honest man, he refused to go much beyond kissing. That, too, came to an end when JB slighted him in some unknown way. After that, when it was too dark to see out of the carriage windows, not even the excitement of meeting her even more mysterious lover could keep her awake for the long journey.

She’d curled up against Pran’s shoulder. He allowed it. He could not, however, be persuaded to wrap an arm around her, and the more preposterous her reasoning for needing it, the more stubbornly he resisted. She drifted off, halfway through a sentence about how half of all carriage accidents happened to people who were not holding each other.

The carriage lurched to a stop and JB awoke, barely managing to catch herself from falling off the seat.

“See?” she said. “That wouldn’t have happened if you’d wrapped your big, strong arms around me.”

JB exited the carriage to find herself in densely packed wood. Other than the path they’d driven down, which was so unused that tufts of long grass and flowers managed to thrive, the only indication of humanity touching the land was a modest house. JB rented larger ones just for herself and her retinue when she went on trips. She couldn’t imagine living in such a modest environment.

“Your friend lives here?” she asked.

“Yes.”

The door flew open. JB would have been impressed at such attentive servants, even if they should take more care with the house, but the effect was immediately ruined.

“Where have you been?” one of the men demanded as he stormed towards them. JB scrutinised him. He was tall, broad and chiselled: the very definition of handsome. His pink hair and eyes were beautiful, but it was clear that this was not her intended.

“Not you,” she said, and dismissed him from her attention. The man jogging behind him, with his fluffy blond hair, was beautiful, but enchanting? She couldn’t see it. “You’re just handsome with a dash of beautiful.”

“Excuse me?” the handsome man said, though the redness in his face and the sharpness of his tone belied his polite words.

“Go inside,” the beautiful but not enchanting man said, putting a hand on the handsome man’s shoulder. “I can handle this.”

“I very much doubt that,” said handsome, but he disappeared back inside.

Pran began to walk after him, but the man lacking enchantment stuck out an arm. “Pran,” he said, his soft voice sharp. “Where were you? And who is this?”

“I’m his fiancée,” JB said. “Sorry, but we’ve got urgent matters of matrimony to attend to.”

 “Is this true, Pran?”

“Yes,” Pran said.

“That’s surprising,” the man said, “Since I haven’t given my permission for you to be courted.”

“Pran’s not really the permission seeking type,” JB said.

“I am aware.” He sighed and held out a hand. “I’m Lynn, his guardian.”

“JB,” JB said, taking his hand. “Duchess, royal correspondent and former heartbreaker.”

“I’m glad to hear your days of dalliance are behind you,” Lynn said. “Pran has convinced you to settle down?”

“Almost,” JB said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pran duck around Lynn and head inside. “Hey, Pran, wait for me!”

She hurried inside the building, which was no more impressive on the inside than it had been on the outside. A man strumming a guitar on the staircase caught her eye and she his, but Pran barged past him without a word. JB didn’t have much time to evaluate him, but the word ‘handsome’ definitely applied, so he couldn’t have been their target. Even if his eyes had been…JB took a step back to peer at him again. He was staring at her.

“Arresting,” she decided, then hurried after Pran.

“What the hell?” said the beautiful man with arresting eyes.

Further down the corridor, a man with a head of thick curls was attempting to talk to Pran.

“Where were you?” he asked. “We had to search for you for hours-“

He halted, catching sight of JB approaching, and his expression softened.

“Good morning,” he said, throwing her a radiant smile. “I’m sorry, no-one told me to expect guests today. Especially not such a beautiful one.”

“Don’t expect us here for long,” JB said. “I think I’m eloping.”

“How romantic!” he cried, flushing pink. “I’d love to elope.”

Pran hadn’t paused in his quest. Even if he had bothered to pay attention to the man, JB knew this couldn’t have been it. He was handsome in an innocent way. What was the word for that?

“Winsome,” she said, pointing at him as she strode past. “Sorry, today’s not your lucky day.”

“Thank you!” he called after her. “Let me know if that changes!”

JB followed Pran into a room. Immediately she was struck by how spartan it all was: a bed, a shelf holding books, a slim wardrobe and a washstand.

“Is this a hospice of some kind?” JB asked. “Or are you just impoverished?”

“He’s not here,” Pran said.

“Are you sure?” JB asked. “I mean, there are so many places he could be hiding.”

“Knock knock,” came a sing-song voice behind them. JB turned, expecting to finally meet her future spouse (because how many attractive men could this tiny abode hold? It couldn’t have more than eight bedrooms; it was practically a hovel) but, for the first time in her life she was disappointed to see an unquestionably handsome man. He was beautiful, too, with his refined air and sharp features, and JB supposed that his blood red eyes could be enchanting, but she was sure that this was not her man. Worse still, she was running out of adjectives. “Pran, guest of Pran: Lynn is waiting for you down in the sitting room.”

“I don’t care,” Pran said.

“Of coooourse you don’t,” the other man said. JB assessed his demeanour in addition to his looks, searching for something other than ‘arresting’ and ‘striking’, which she had already associated with Mr Blue Eyes. “However, I think you might find who you’re looking for down there with him.”

“Opulent,” JB said, mostly because it had become a thing by this point and it would have been unfair to leave him out. She wasn’t entirely happy with it, though, and had Pran not barged past Mr Red and Black she might have asked for his assistance. But since he did, she had no choice but to shelve it for later consideration and follow Fiancé Number One on his quest to find her Future Fiancé Number Two.

Lynn stood over a man curled in an armchair. The unknown man’s head rested against one wing, mussing up his green hair, and a forgotten book lay against his chest. He opened his eyes sleepily as they approached, revealing irises like amber.

“Enchanting,” JB said, her eyes wide. His face was too delicate to hold the term ‘handsome’, but he had an ethereal beauty about him, like some fey creature from a folk tale. She turned to Pran. “This is him, isn’t it?”

 “This must be her,” the man said, looking to Pran for confirmation. Pran nodded. JB clapped her hands.

“Wonderful,” she said. She reached out to take his hand. He flinched back, curling his hands up and holding them to his chest. Undeterred, JB ploughed on. “Marry me.”

“All right.”

“Hooray!” She leaned forward. “I think it’s customary to kiss at this point.”

“No, it isn’t,” he said, scowling.

“Aw," JB said, straightening up. "Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Ahem,” Lynn said. “Have you, in fact, ever met before?”

“Only in my dreams,” JB said. “But it’s love at first sight.”

“What’s his name?”

“As the great poet once, said, ‘A rose by any other name-‘”

“I want an actual answer. A correct one.”

JB shrugged. “As long as he tells me before the ceremony, we’ll be fine.”

“I see,” Lynn said. His face was still locked in a smile, but it was tight, his lips pursed in a thin forced curve. “I’m going to have to refuse your request.”

“You can do that?” JB’s nameless fiancé asked.

“I can,” Lynn confirmed. “Your parents have entrusted your guardianship to me.”

“But I can’t marry Pran if I don’t marry him, too.”

“That’s fine,” Lynn said, “Because I don’t endorse that marriage, either.”

“What?” JB asked. “Why? I know his name.”

“I suspect you barely know more than that.”

“Sure I do. He’s a free spirit that breaks into other people’s balls just to glower at people from the sidelines. I love it.”

“That’s very interesting,” Lynn said, “Because I haven’t given Pran permission to go to any dances.”

“Oops.”

“I think,” Lynn said, “That we should have a meeting.”

JB had had the misfortune of sitting in on several meetings in her life. If more of them had been like the motley crew that assembled before her now, she would have looked upon the word with much more favour. In addition to Lynn and her two fiancés, the four stunningly handsome men from earlier joined them around a round table. It was apparent that this was _de rigeur_ for these men, who grumbled as they entered and took their places with the routine of putting on slippers in the morning. Pran loitered against a wall, taking no notice of the others.

“There was no meeting scheduled for today,” the handsome man, his eyes the colour of bon-bons, said.

“That’s right,” Lynn said. “I am as surprised by today’s events as any of you.”

“What events? Pran wasn’t here, now he is,” Mr Blue Eyes said, impatiently. “Crisis over. I’ve got a letter to write.”

“I’m sure your mother can wait, dumpling.”

“Uh, can the mail coach wait? No, it can’t, so neither can I.”

“I want to learn more about our beautiful guest,” the winsome Mr Freckles said, cupping his chin in his hands.

“Thank you for getting us back on track,” Lynn said. “This is JB. She’s Pran’s fiancé.”

“What about my other engagement?” JB prompted, looking pointedly at her second fiancé, name still unknown.

“I am not even dignifying that display with an acknowledgement,” Lynn said. “You do, at least, seem to have some cursory familiarity with Pran.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” said Mr Blue Eyes. “Someone wants to marry Pran? I assume you’ve never had the misfortune of hearing him talk.”

“I have,” JB said. “It’s usually hilarious.”

“What a solid foundation for a relationship, chick.”

“Yes, it is,” JB agreed. “Pran is gorgeous and he entertains me. We will have an incredibly happy marriage.”

“So happy that you’ve got someone else in the wings already?” Mr Bon-Bon man asked. “Is it someone you can actually talk to?”

“I don’t know,” JB said. She turned to her second fiancé. “Can I talk to you?”

“Uh, I guess?” he replied.

This was, apparently, hilariously funny to Mr Red and Black, who bent double with laughter. The others, to whom she was not engaged, seemed newly stunned.

“This has got to be a fucking joke,” Mr Blue Eyes said.

“Language,” Mr Bon-Bon said. “But I agree.”

“Are you sure you want to marry them?” Mr Freckles asked, looking pained. “I would be a much better husband than both of them combined.”

“Are you going to let this man try to steal me from under your noses?” JB asked Pran and Fiancé Number Two. They both made noncommittal gestures.

“And this, combined with the fact that you don’t even know the name of one of them, is why I have concerns,” Lynn said.

“Why should we care?” asked Mr Blue Eyes. JB had had enough.

“Let’s fix this,” she said. “I want names. For all of you.”

This was, it should be noted, a massive step for JB. Suitors were ten a penny for her and, as such, it had become too much effort to bother to learn the names of each one. Their appearances tended to be the only things of note, anyway, so why not refer to them by bland and interchangeable descriptors? For her to care what the men were called was a beautiful and rare thing.

Unfortunately, none of them knew this, so the grand gesture went unnoticed.

“Everett,” said Everett, the former Mr Arresting Blue Eyes.

“Nate,” said the handsome Mr Bon-Bon.

“Shiloh,” said the winsome Mr Freckles. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Bae,” said the opulent Mr Red and Black. “I’m sooo sorry that you’ll be taking Pran out of our little home.”

“Jeremy,” said JB’s other future husband, the ethereal beauty.

“Sublime,” JB said. “And with that resolved I now can marry Jeremy and Pran.”

“No, you can’t,” Lynn said. “I will be the one to decide if they can get married.”

JB groaned. “I learned his name,” she said. “What else do I need?”

“You need his full name to get married,” Bae said.

“Oh, right,” JB said. “Jeremy, I need your full name. Yours too, Pran.”

“You also require my approval.”

“Aw.”

“Which you can earn by actually getting to know them.”

“That,” JB said, beaming, “Will not be a problem.”

Knowing glances were shared over the table. JB, included in none of them, was disgruntled.

“What?” she asked.

“Noooothing,” Bae said. “I’d hate to interrupt the course of true love.”

“Why did you agree to this stupidity?” Nate asked Jeremy. “Did she just wear you down?”

“Hey,” JB protested.

“I want to get out of here,” Jeremy said, lifting his head off the table. “Pran found someone who’d take us both.”

“That’s it?” Shiloh asked. He turned his big eyes on JB. “I’d never be so ungrateful.”

“That’s fine,” JB said. “I’ll show him my charms. He’ll be smitten in no time.”

Jeremy shuddered and buried his face back in his arms.

“And what about you?” Shiloh challenged Pran. “What do you like about her?”

“Nothing,” Pran said. “She’s awful.”

“Lynn should let them get married just to teach them all a lesson,” said Nate.

“I agree,” JB said.

“That is not how I do things,” Lynn said.

“Well, maybe it should be,” JB said. “I did mention that I am Duchess JB, royal correspondent, didn’t I? I’m not sure what Her Royal Highness would say about you standing in the way of true lust-“

“I don’t know,” Lynn said, stepping in gracefully, “But I will be sure to mention it in my next letter to her. She requests my advice from time to time.”

“Oh,” JB said. She knew when she was beat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy is scarred for life.

The meeting succeeded in establishing vital context but something was not covered: where the hell JB was and how she would get back to civilisation. The first question should have been a simple one, but JB had paid very little attention to her Geography classes. Lynn gave her an answer. JB had never heard of the answer. Lynn mentioned the nearest notable town. It was insufficiently notable for JB to have noticed it. Eventually, JB established which county she was in, and promptly dismissed the knowledge. She had other people to do that sort of thing.

More pressing was the issue of how she would get home. The only transport they had, a carriage, was currently engaged in farm work. This was horrifying to JB on many levels but she did what she did best: turn the situation to her advantage. She persuaded Lynn to agree that she could stay until the carriage returned, at which point it would travel to the nearest town and fetch a vehicle that wasn’t used part-time for field work.

Having successfully resolved these issues, JB could turn her full focus on to getting to know her future husbands. She wrangled Jeremy and Pran to the sitting room, only to find Bae stationed there. He was draped in an armchair, a book on his lap, and showed no intention of leaving despite JB’s subtle attempts.

“Boy,” JB said, “This sure would be a good place to get to know my future husbands. If only we could be alone.”

“If only,” Bae said. “Just as well there are other rooms.”

“There are,” JB said. “Your bedroom, for one.”

“I have already been up those stairs twice today,” Bae said. “I do not intend to climb them again until I retire for bed.”

“That’s the feeblest excuse I have heard in my life,” JB said. She might have had a point, but she quickly undid it. “This house only has a single flight of stairs.”

“I’m so sorry that it’s not as big as whatever cavernous monstrosity you inhabit, but it is quite big enough to wear me down. Especially when Pranny’s antics caused us all to spend half the night traipsing in the woods looking for him.”

“You didn’t traipse,” Jeremy said. “You got fifty yards from the house and said that you’d stay by the house in case he came back.”

“Awful,” Pran said. “I could have been injured and in need of help.”

“But you weren’t,” Bae said.

“You didn’t know that.”

“I must admit, my faith in your ability to handle yourself is rather high,” Bae said. “Since you have a habit of disappearing and each time you turn up just fine, I summarised that this would be no different. And as always, I was right.”

“Good job,” JB said. “Now scram.”

“No, thank you.”

“Fine,” JB said. “We’ll stay here and you can feel awkward and unwanted.”

“Oh, thank you,” Bae said. “I do so appreciate being given permission to use the facilities of my own abode.”

“Jeremy,” JB said, perching next to him on the settee. He retreated to the corner, his body pressed up to the armrest. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“Not good enough,” JB said. “Think of something.”

Unlike Pran, who would become more obstinate when pressed, Jeremy wilted with a sigh.

“Uhhhh,” he said, turning his big orange eyes to the window. There was a pause.

“Well?” JB prompted.

“I’m thinking.”

“Think faster.”

“Fine,” Jeremy said. “I’ve got something.”

“Then tell me.”

“You won’t like it.”

“I don’t like stalling. Tell me.”

“I think…that I’m not good at talking about myself.”

“Very funny,” JB said. “But Lynn is going to interrogate me on our fully legitimate relationship and that is not going to fly.”

“But there’s nothing interesting about me.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” JB said. “I find you very interesting.”

“You won’t,” Jeremy said. Pran, who was leaning by the window, smirked. “I’m pretty good at making things unappealing.”

“Like what?”

“Um,” Jeremy said, chewing his lip. His eyes cast around the room before settling on Bae, who was making no secret of the fact that he was watching the little show with amusement. “I told Bae that his favourite gloves were dyed with beetles.”

The smile fell from Bae’s lips as JB hooted with laughter. “Thaaank you for that,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose and taking up his book once more. “I’m sure keeping that useless information to yourself would have been too much of a hardship.”

“That’s amazing,” JB said. “Tell me more.”

“More facts that will spoil things you love?”

“I’d rather learn more about you but whatever. Keep talking.”

Jeremy slouched, looking up at her reproachfully underneath deep green eyelashes. “Do I have to?” he asked, mournfully.

“Do you have to what?” Shiloh asked, stopping in the doorway. “Maybe I can help with it, whatever it is.”

“Isn’t there somewhere else you can be?” JB asked. “Both of you.”

“This is our home,” Bae said. “We’re entitled to use it as we see fit, no matter how many uninvited and unwanted guests stop by.”

“I just wanted to spend time with Bae,” Shiloh said. “I had no idea that you were in here!”

“Jeremy, can you upset them into leaving us alone?”

“Probably not,” Jeremy said. “You pretty much told Shiloh that you’re rich and powerful; he’s not going to leave easily.”

“Gosh, that is so mean,” Shiloh said, widening his already huge grey eyes. It was not sufficiently mean to stop him from pulling up a chair next to Bae and joining the conversation. “I found JB alluring and intriguing the moment I saw her. I didn’t know anything about her then!”

“Except that she can afford some very expensive tailoring,” Bae said, not looking up from his book.

“Thanks,” JB said.

“What a shame that she can’t afford taste.”

“I can afford lots of beetles. I’ll send you some and you can dye some more gloves.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Jeremy said, his upper lip curled in revulsion. “I don’t want disgusting insects in here.”

“Noted,” JB said. “I promise that we won’t have creepy crawlies in our house.” There was a flicker of emotion across Pran’s face. “You like insects, Pran?”

“I don’t care.”

“Also noted,” JB said. She was getting quicker at translating Pran. “How about a butterfly house?”

Pran narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t try to buy my affection.”

“You’re so ungrateful,” Shiloh said, shaking his head. “I’d be delighted if someone offered to build something for me.”

“Then we’ll get your tombstone commissioned right away,” Jeremy said, a mean grin lighting up his face. JB gasped.

“You can smile!” she said, holding her hands to her face. The smile vanished from Jeremy’s face. “No, no, it was beautiful. Do it again!”

“I’m never going to smile again in my life,” Jeremy said.

“He only smiles when he’s making fun at someone’s expense,” Shiloh said. “It’s not very attractive.”

“Wrong,” JB said. “I’m very attracted.”

Jeremy hunched his shoulders and sunk in his seat, much like an animal trying to fade into the background to escape a predator’s notice. It did nothing to remove him from where he found himself: in the centre of attention. Everyone waited for the next move with baited breath.

“What’s going on here?” Everett asked, sticking his head into the room and glancing around. “Where’s Nate?”

“Not here,” JB said, irritated at the interruption. “You should learn from his example.”

“I go where I want,” Everett said. “What’s the Antichrist doing in here with you? And Shiloh? You’re not marrying them, are you?”

“Nope,” JB said. “But it’s not stopping them from trying.”

“Like even they want you,” Everett said. “You’re clearly beyond help if you want to marry those other two.”

“Aw, hurt that no-one’s asked to marry you yet?” JB asked.

“Ugh,” Everett said. “I could get married if I wanted. I just have standards.”

“Really?” Bae asked, sounding intrigued. “Where have you been hiding them?”

“Fuck you, Antichrist.”

“You can’t ask Everett questions like that,” Jeremy said. “Not when Nate isn’t around to give him the answers.”

“Fuck you, clown,” Everett said, scowling. While Bae’s insult had barely registered, this point – or the one making it – had produced a more forceful visible reaction. “You don’t know anything about me.”

The nicknames being cast around the room were intriguing, but JB was set on her task. Lynn had issued her with a challenge and she could not afford distractions, no matter how prettily packaged they were.

“Speaking of getting to know people,” JB said, rising from her seat. “Jeremy, Pran, let’s go somewhere more private.” Neither of them moved. “Seriously? You want to stay here? With these people?”

“Mm, no,” Jeremy said, sliding from his seat. He yawned. “I’m going to take a nap.”

“I’ll come with you,” JB said. “Come on, babe, let’s go to bed.”

“No,” he said, his eyes wide with horror. He stumbled and fell back onto the settee. “No, no, no, no.”

“Hang on, I didn’t catch all of those,” JB said, ticking no’s off on her fingers. “Did it end up a double negative or not?”

Jeremy scurried from the room without responding. Everett sniggered and seized Jeremy’s vacated seat. JB had been thwarted: her lack of relationship with Jeremy was the major obstacle to gaining Lynn’s approval. She knew better than to chase him right now, but she would have to re-evaluate her plans for the remaining time.

“Probably for the best,” Bae said. “Someone would surely have gone running to Lynn had Jeremy not resisted giving in for the first time in his life.”

“Boo,” JB said, sinking back into the settee. She had considered her options and found them wanting. Jeremy had fled and Pran had refused to leave the room where they had an audience. Neither of them would be willing to engage with her for the foreseeable future. “Now what am I going to do?”

“You seem to have forgotten that your other fiancé is still in the room,” Bae reminded her.

“Is he?” Shiloh asked. “Oh, Pran, how long have you been here?”

“Pran, are you willing to go somewhere else now?”

“No.”

“Thought not,” JB said. “But since I want to still be in your company, I’m not going to push you to do anything else.”

“You couldn’t push me even if you wanted to.”

“Then it’s a good job I’m not trying.”

“If I were your fiancé,” Shiloh said, “We could do whatever you liked.”

“Anything?”

“Sure!”

“Would you let me get a pet bear?”

There was a beat before Shiloh chirped, “Of course!”

“Why a bear?” Everett asked. He had located a pencil and was jotting something on a scrap of paper.

“Bears are great,” JB said, simply.

“You wouldn’t think that when it mauled you to death,” Everett said.

“I wouldn’t think anything because I’d be dead,” JB said. Shiloh laughed. Whether or not he actually found the comment amusing was, naturally, a mystery.

“What if you were a ghost?” Everett asked.

“Can ghosts think?” JB mused. She sighed. “If only I had a miserable boy full of unpleasant facts. I bet he’d know.”

“He’d just tell you that ghosts aren’t real and that you’re both stupid for considering the matter at all,” Bae said, closing the book he had been ignoring.

“Which is totally different to what you’re doing in his stead,” Everett said.

“Absolutely,” Bae said. “Firstly, I think encouraging children in their delusions can be quite endearing.”

“Sounds like we should have just had Jeremy tell us instead,” JB said. “He’d only have gotten the one insult in instead of two.”

“Secondly,” Bae continued, “I think there is a lot that we don’t know and I would never want to talk in absolutes.”

“What about if we said that rainbow coloured ghosts were in the house and eating your stupid glasses?” Everett asked.

“That just proves my point. I thought I knew how stupid you were but you would teach me that you constantly find new depths. For example, I didn’t know that you didn’t realise rainbow isn’t a colour, but instead a-”

“Fuck this,” Everett said, getting up. “I’m not here to learn.”

 “That’s a good point,” JB said.

“What is? Everett’s refusal to better himself?”

“No, the reason that you’re all here,” JB asked. “Are you tragic orphans?”

“Fuck no,” Everett said. It was almost impressive how he had a worse mouth than the naval officers JB had met. “My mother is alive and you shouldn’t even joke about that.”

“Sorry,” JB said, not meaning it in the slightest. The wellbeing of some woman related to a man she had only just met was none of her concern.

“Last I heard we all had living parents,” Bae said. “But anything could happen since the last time the mail was written, couldn’t it?”

“Fuck off back to hell.”

“Then why,” JB asked, her brow creasing, “Am I wasting time getting Lynn’s permission to get hitched and not talking to Pran and Jeremy’s parents?”

“Ask someone who cares,” Everett said.

“What a shame that neither of her fiancés fit into that category,” Bae said.

“You deserve so much better,” Shiloh said.

“I deserve answers,” JB said, irritated by their evasiveness. “Pran, do I need to ask your parents for permission?”

“They can’t tell me what to do,” Pran said. Everett scoffed.

“Like you’d be here if you had a choice.”

“I’m going to take that as a ‘no’ and remember this for future reference,” JB said, attempting to steer the conversation. “Do you know if I would need Jeremy’s parents’ permission?”

Pran’s expression shifted into something thoughtful. Shiloh opened his mouth; JB held up a hand to force him to hold his contribution. Luckily, as it was Shiloh she used that move on and not any of the others in the room, the gesture was successful.

“Maybe,” Pran said, his brow knitted.

“How enlightening,” Bae drawled.

“And would they approve?”

“I don’t know,” Pran said. “They shouldn’t.”

“Wasn’t this your idea?” Shiloh asked, frustrated. “Why are you so difficult with something that you asked for?”

“She asked the question,” Pran said. “I answered. Jeremy deserves better.”

Shiloh looked ready to defend JB’s honour but JB reigned him in. “Let’s go back to my original question,” she said, “Why are you all here? Does Lynn just hoard hot eligible bachelors?”

“Because we’re assholes,” Everett said. “Except Nate. He’s here to show us all how it’s done.”

“Yes, of cooourse,” Bae said. “It has nothing to do with his quick temper and emotional instability, nor his unreasonable expectations.”

“Must suck to see someone with the energy to be everything you want to be, huh, Antichrist?”

“I would rather lay down and die than run myself ragged like Nate does over the most trivial matters.”

“Huh,” Everett said. “You mean that isn’t what you’re already doing?”

“I’m not an asshole,” Shiloh said. “And neither’s Bae.”

“What about the others?” JB asked.

“I like Jeremy.”

“Shiloh, I know you’re a liar, but there’s got to be a limit to what you can say with a straight face,” Everett said. “No-one likes Jeremy. He is the most garbage person to ever walk the Earth.”

“That’s you,” Pran said.

“Fuck you!” Everett said, swivelling in his seat to shout at Pran. “Who asked for your shitty opinion?”

“It’s not an opinion,” Pran said. “You are the worst and we all know it.”

“I’m out of here,” Everett seethed, leaping off the settee.

“Aw,” JB said. Everett made a rude gesture over his shoulder as he stalked out of the room.

“That certainly was an extreme reaction,” Bae observed. “Pranny, what did you do to make Everett care so deeply?”

Pran did not respond. Shiloh sighed.

“That was so selfish of him,” he said. “Now we don’t have enough people for a game of quadrille.”

“We need four,” JB said. “And I count four people.”

“Pran won’t play,” Shiloh said. “He won’t do anything for anyone else.”

“A wise move in this instance,” Bae said. “Shiloh, I have no intention of gambling with you ever again.”

“None of you should be gambling,” Nate said, stepping into the room with a frown. “Where’s Everett?”

“You just missed him,” Bae said. “Pranny hurt his feelings, so he ran off to cry them out.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Oh? But I was just about to say how nice it is that Everett is finally learning from you. It’s only taken him, what, nearly two decades?” Bae laughed. “But maybe next time he should actually copy one of your better qualities. If he can find them, that is.”

“All of my qualities are better qualities!”

“That’s impossible, even for someone like you. How can there be a ‘better’ without a ‘worse’?”

“I don’t need a lecture on my word choices from someone like you!”

“Having you all in one place seems like a terrible idea,” JB observed. “I wish I could stay forever.”

Alas, her dream was not to be. Lynn came in with the terrible news that her carriage would be arriving before long. JB eked as much entertainment as she could from the remaining time, even indulging Shiloh in a couple of games of cards. Despite Bae’s earlier warnings, JB came off the better. Whether that was to win her affection or to put her into a state of overconfidence before going for a big win, JB did not have chance to find out. Her carriage awaited, and thus it was time for a tearful parting.

“Isn’t Jeremy going to say goodbye?” she said, putting down her cards.

“He’s probably still asleep,” Bae said.

“Not good enough,” JB said, rising to her feet. “I’m going to go hammer on his door until he comes out.”

“I’ll get him,” Pran said. He had said little in the elapsed time, choosing to sketch in silence. JB’s requests to see his sketches had been refused and he had taken offence to her suggestion that he draw her.

“Thanks,” JB said. “I knew you cared.”

“I don’t care,” Pran said. “Jeremy doesn’t deserve you barging in and harassing him.”

“Ah, so you’re jealous of what we might get up to without you,” JB said. Pran didn’t bother to respond, but Shiloh laughed.

“That’s a good one. You’re so funny.”

“Was I being funny?” JB asked.

“I would have hoped that you’d have picked up on the frequent and emphatic hints that Jeremy is uninterested in any hanky-panky,” Bae said.

“He’s playing hard to get,” JB said. “I like it.”

“If you say so,” Bae said. “I say that you’re setting yourself up for a huge and inevitable disappointment, but let’s agree to disagree.”

“What do you say, Shiloh?”

“Jeremy doesn’t like being touched,” Shiloh said. “I’m sorry, but Bae’s right.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to tell me how you’d never disappoint me in that way?”

“Well,” Shiloh said, blushing, “I don’t have much experience…but if you wanted…”

Bae’s roar of laughter interrupted any response JB might have had to that offer. He wiped tears from his eyes as Shiloh looked reprovingly at him.

“Warn me before you tell such outrageous lies,” Bae rasped. “I could have dropped my tea.”

“I’m not lying,” Shiloh said. “I don’t know what’s so funny.”

“I’m going to wait in the hall for my dramatic farewell,” JB said.

“Now this I must see,” Bae said, slipping a bookmark into the pages of his book.

“Did I ask for an audience for my romantic goodbyes?”

“Dumpling, the idea that there might be any romance today is the biggest joke of all.”

JB did not like to admit it but there was a chance that Bae was right. When Pran descended the stairs with Jeremy, neither of them showed any indication of the heart-wrenching separation that was about to unfurl. Luckily, they both looked beautiful while doing it, and that was more important than genuine feeling.

There was a full audience in attendance for the little show. JB expected Lynn to watch over, just in case his charges eloped, but there was no reason for the other men to loiter in the hall. Aware of the watching eyes and the gravity of the moment, JB cleared her throat to make a grand speech. Jeremy yawned. As beginnings to momentous occasions went, it was inauspicious.

“It’s time for me to go,” JB said. “Try not to be too heartbroken while I’m gone.”

“We’ll manage,” Jeremy said.

“Fine,” JB said. “Don’t manage too well.”

“I don’t understand the instruction,” Jeremy said, squinting. “Do you want us to be heartbroken or not?”

“I want you to be heartbroken but try to soldier on bravely.”

“We’re not going to do that,” Jeremy said.

Bae sniggered. JB ignored him.

“And you’ve got to write to me.”

“Do I have to?” Jeremy whined.

“Yes,” JB said. “Both of you.”

“It’s a good job that isn’t a condition of your marriage,” Bae observed. “You’d never get to the altar if you were waiting on Pran to do something.”

“Either you both write or Jeremy has to write twice as much,” JB said. Jeremy groaned. “Any more commentary and I’ll triple it.”

“Fine,” Jeremy said. “I’ll write.” He smiled, the wicked glint back in his eyes. “There will be lots of words.”

“I’ll take it,” JB said. “I know this level of emotional vulnerability must be difficult for you.”

“Ick.”

“Pran,” JB said, turning to her first fiancé, “I know this must be especially painful for you.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Hush,” JB said, “Let me get a word in, will you? Now, as I was saying: I know this must be hard, but we will endure. I’ll come back soon.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I promise I’ll be back soon,” JB said, surprising herself. Not with the words, but that she meant them.


	3. Chapter 3

JB’s mail was frequent and plentiful, in spite of her well-earned reputation as an irregular correspondent. Many of the people writing to her were so familiar that she could recognise the author by the hand that wrote the address. Most of these she ignored for as long as possible. Then there were unknowns, which she ignored for even longer. These days, anyone wanting her attention knew that they stood a better chance if they found her in person. There were few exceptions to the rule: Missy would not stand for being kept waiting and JB found letters from her sisses to be worth the time investment. Otherwise, it was rare that JB’s staff saw her take any interest in the delivery of anything smaller than a jewellery box.

The promise of letters from her fiancés gave her a vested and uncharacteristic interest in the mail. Not that she shared this with her staff; it was far too amusing to hear the whispers guessing at her change of heart. There was a theory that she was being blackmailed and she rather wanted to see how that developed.

JB flicked through the envelopes, plucking out those written in handwriting she didn’t recognise. There were three today: a simple hand, a softly curved hand, and a small and scratchy one. This was promising. She opened the first and found two lines inside:

“Here’s a letter. Now you can’t make Jeremy write more.

Pran”

“Aww,” JB said. “He cares so much.”

The fact that the caring was directed at someone else was beside the point. She carefully set the letter down and moved to the next one.

“Dearest JB,

It was such a pleasure and an honour to meet you…”

JB flicked through the pages, then scanned down to the signature at the end. Shiloh. Of course. She tossed it aside. Maybe she’d read it later or maybe a fire would need sustenance. In any case, it was unimportant for the time being, and she was hopeful that the last letter might contain something more worthwhile.

“JB,

It’s Jeremy. I’m one of those men you proposed to. The miserable one. That should narrow it down. If it doesn’t, you should probably stop proposing to people you don’t know.

I don’t know what to put here. I don’t have anything to say. But you insisted and Lynn wants to see some sort of evidence of our ‘‘‘relationship’’’-”

JB snorted at the word “relationship”, quarantined within quotation marks lest it infect the author, and read on.

“- so I guess I don’t have a choice.

Pran’s just finished his letter to you. I don’t think you’ll like it. But you seem to like things that any decent person would be appalled by, so who knows. I told Pran that last part and he says he doesn’t care.

I wish he hadn’t written. I was going to write a bunch of random words if I had to make the letter long but now I feel like I have to actually write something. It’s hard. I don’t like it. Have you stopped reading this letter yet?

I’m ending here.

Jeremy King.”

Chuckling, JB folded the letter up and tucked it back in its envelope. Pran and Jeremy had written the most unique letters she’d ever received out of all her years of correspondence. It put her at ease. In the days that had passed since she saw them she had wondered if she might have been a tad impulsive, at least in regards to Jeremy. Pran had held her interest for a while now, but she had met Jeremy only once and he had spent much of that time asleep. Now, she had something concrete, something that could prove that if she was making a bad decision, she was at least making an entertaining one.

She deliberated over whether to respond. She was set to return in a few days and there was every chance that she might beat the mail coach. Writing was not her favourite pastime. Any excuse to avoid it was fine by her. On the other hand, Jeremy’s letter suggested that Lynn was using it as a barometer of genuine feeling. If JB had any, this would be a good time to show them.

Sighing, she took a seat at her writing desk and picked up a quill. Her first attempts at writing produced nothing more than shapeless blotches of ink; the nib was blunt and needed re-cutting. JB was not impressed. It was as if the fates were telling her not to bother. Who was she to overrule them? Jeremy and Pran weren’t going to care whether she replied or not, and she had no intention of replying to Shiloh’s epic letter.

“Oh well,” she said, putting the quill back where she found it without bothering to fix the tip. “I tried.”

 

The journey to the boys’ abode in Nowhereshire was no more pleasant the second time around. JB, who craved stimulation, struggled with the length of the journey. Long journeys were fine when taken with friends, but alone, with no-one to talk to, it was a perverse kind of torture. It gave her a lot of time to think, mostly about why Pran bothered to go so far afield, but with no-one around to give her the answers she desired it was an exercise in frustration.

After such a dull journey she was impatient to cut to the chase when she disembarked from the carriage, immediately looking around for her prey. Lynn was there to greet her, as was Shiloh. It was unacceptable, and she told them so.

“Sorry,” Lynn said, though he didn’t look as sorry as JB felt he ought, “This is just what they’re like.”

“Shiloh,” JB said, “Go fetch Pran and Jeremy at once. I will meet them in the entrance hall.”

“Of course,” Shiloh said, giving her a genteel bow before disappearing.

This left JB alone with Lynn. It had occurred to JB that Lynn, for all his meddling, was very attractive. She scrutinised him closely, wondering if these engagements did not last (much like all her others had not) whether she might chase him instead. It then occurred to her that he was watching her right back. Was there a need to wait?

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” JB asked, smiling as she took his arm and walked to the house.

“I doubt that very much,” Lynn said, his voice calm and even, “I was wondering whether or not you bothered to reply to Jeremy and Pran. I expect that you would know the answer.”

“Of course I did,” JB said. “Are you questioning my integrity?”

“I am,” Lynn said.

“On what grounds?”

“Firstly, that you proposed to Jeremy without even knowing his name,” Lynn said, ticking the crimes off on his fingers. “Secondly, I learned that these will be your seventh and eighth engagements – none of which have historically amounted to anything.”

“They didn’t amount to divorces, either,” JB pointed out. “Or unhappy marriages. So really, isn’t it a good thing, on the whole-“

“Perhaps one or two might,” Lynn said, “But this is a pattern. And I wasn’t done.”

“Fine,” JB said, “I have no integrity. Jeremy and Pran don’t care, so why should you?”

“It’s my job to look after them,” Lynn said. “I would be remiss in that role if I didn’t care.”

“That’s boring,” JB said, holding the door open for him. Really, it should have been down to a servant to fulfil that obligation, but JB hadn’t seen any on either of her visits. Perhaps they could only afford a cook. “They won’t learn if you don’t let them make decisions for themselves.”

“Some decisions are harder to recover from than others,” Lynn said, holding her gaze as he stepped inside.  

“I’m sorry!” Shiloh called, coming down the stairs with Jeremy in tow. “I found Jeremy, but Pran-“

“Has wandered off somewhere,” JB said. “I’m not even surprised. All right, Jeremy, it’s down to you to entertain me.”

“How?” Jeremy said. “I’m not very entertaining.”

“Don’t be modest,” JB said. “All charming young men are accomplished in some fashion.”

“Not me.”

“You mean you won’t be playing the piano for our guests after we’re married?” JB asked, cocking her head to the side. “Singing? Dancing?” She hadn’t given the matter much thought, but it seemed that every young man that had ever been recommended to her came with a list of accomplishments that could fill a hymn book. The idea that a husband might not be a pretty diversion for entertainment was a novel one.

Jeremy’s expression curdled. “Nope.”

“I can entertain you, JB!” Shiloh chirped.

“Pass,” JB said. “I want to be with Jeremy. And Pran, if he bothers to show up.”

“I don’t mind if Shiloh wants to entertain you,” Jeremy said. “I can go back to reading.”

“Unacceptable,” JB said. “Show me around the house.”

Jeremy gave her a tour of the house which confirmed most of her fears. It was tiny, with a mere five proper bedrooms. JB initially refused to believe it, insisting that Jeremy show her where the others were hidden. After all, there were seven people living in the house, and, though mathematics was not her strongest suit, it simply did not add up. Jeremy attempted to explain the concept of shared bedrooms. She was still struggling with the notion while Jeremy showed her the ground floor and was only beginning to grasp it as they descended the stairs to the servants’ quarters. They passed a suitably dark, spacious wine cellar, but it was being misused for general storage and not worth attention. There was a small sleeping space but, Jeremy explained, they were between service right now.

“The last cook left in tears after Nate gave a lecture about efficient use of vegetable scraps,” he said. “We had a footman but he got in a shouting match with Everett.”

“But how do you eat?” JB asked, looking into the small kitchen. It was as mystifying to her as all kitchens were: piles of what she had been told were potatoes (though they looked nothing like the ones that were served on a plate), peculiar metal contraptions, some sort of fire contained in bricks for turning things into actual food. It was eerie: JB had limited experience with kitchens, but when she had been in them they had been hives of activity, full of people shouting across the room and an assortment of smells from baking bread and roasting meats. This one, quiet and clean and orderly, was like stepping into a tomb.

“We cook for ourselves.”

“How barbaric,” JB said, picking up a rolling pin and inspecting it. She could not fathom what purpose it served. “Are you and Pran going to scare off my servants?”

“I don’t know,” Jeremy said. He plucked an apron from a hook and fastened it over his clothes. “Anyway, it’s my turn to cook. Mine and Shiloh’s, but clearly he’s not here.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” JB said, hopping on a stool and watching as Jeremy wrung out a cloth and wiped down the table.

“I don’t know what will happen in the future,” Jeremy said, scrubbing at the worn wooden surface. “I haven’t scared anyone in years, but it’s not impossible.”

“And Pran?” JB asked, perching her chin on her hands.

“Um, he doesn’t like being waited on. He mostly avoids them.”

“What kind of gentleman doesn’t like being waited on?”

“Pran.”

“And do you object to being waited on?”

“I’m not a gentleman,” Jeremy said, his lips pursed. “So I can object if I want.”

“What?” JB asked, jolting upright.

“I’m not a gentleman,” Jeremy said, not taking his eyes from the table as he scrubbed a stubborn spot. Once satisfied it was spotless, he straightened up and moved to the next task. “My parents run a shop.”

“But you dress like a gentleman,” JB said, scrutinising him through narrowed eyes. “Other than the apron. And live with gentleman in what could, possibly, described as a gentleman’s abode.”

“Shiloh’s not a gentleman either,” Jeremy said, busying himself with peeling carrots and some other plant matter that JB couldn’t recognise in its current state. “Not in the way you mean, at least. His mother earned some money through trade and sent him here to be refined.”

“So, what are you doing here?”

“I came with Pran,” Jeremy said, his hands deftly sluicing the rough outer skin from the vegetables.

“I need a better explanation than that.”

“Oh, well,” Jeremy said, still not looking up from his task.

“Then I guess I’ll have to make one up,” JB said, tapping her nose thoughtfully. “Maybe you were kidnapped by a dragon – no, you’re actually a dragon, and Pran is the only one who can control you-“

Jeremy let out a long sigh. “My background is that I’m a commoner that Pran likes having around,” he said. He kept his gaze studiously locked on the vegetables. “His grandparents wanted him to come here but he refused unless I could come, too.”

“And now he’s pulling the same thing with me,” JB said. “He wants to keep the two of you together, but if he marries there’s a risk that he’ll have to move. But if he can get someone to marry you both, it’s guaranteed that you’ll get to stay together.”

“Basically.”

JB tipped her head back and laughed. Her response drew Jeremy’s attention from the vegetables. He stared, not comprehending.

“I told you that we’re trying to swindle you,” Jeremy said. It only provoked JB into further giggles. “Aren’t you mad?”

“Nope,” JB said. “This is even better than I thought. Pran is the dragon who has kidnapped you and the only way you can be saved is if I marry you and the dragon.”

“Pran isn’t a dragon,” Jeremy said, sweeping the chopped vegetables into a pan. “And I haven’t been kidnapped.”

“Thanks for clarifying. Are you done cooking yet?” JB asked, hopefully.

“Not even close.”

“Boo.”

“If you want it to go quicker you can always help instead of sitting there.”

“Pass. Why not just not get married?” JB asked. “Pran doesn’t seem like he’d be too bothered about remaining shamefully unwed. Can’t he just continue being a burden to his grandparents or whoever?”

“Once his grandparents pass his parents will spend everything,” Jeremy said. He’d set the vegetables into a bath of water on the fire and was now putting flour into a bowl. JB could only assume he was doing this to spite her; it was impossible that cooking took this long. “He’s going to need to get married.”

“Or he could work at the shop with you,” JB suggested. “Neither of you need to get married if you really don’t want to.”

“No,” Jeremy said, glaring at her. The effect was undermined by the dusting of flour that had somehow streaked his hair, turning him prematurely grey. “I hate that shop.”

“Of course you do,” JB said. “Let’s go there after lunch. We can announce our engagement to your parents.”

Jeremy’s shoulders stiffened. “No,” he said, looking at her with wide eyes.

“Why not?”

“Umm,” Jeremy said. “I don’t want to? We’re not properly engaged? And I just told you that the only reason you’re in the picture is so that Pran and I can stay together.”

“Which I find adorable,” JB said, though an errant thought flitted through her mind. It was unusual in that it didn’t revolve around her. “Hey, I’m not getting in the middle of some tragic romance between you two, right?”

“There’s no romance. Tragedy is everywhere.”

“Pran and I had some pretty romantic moments.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“We didn’t,” JB agreed. “Only lustful ones. But the romance will come.”

“Like I said,” Jeremy said, his lips quirking into a lop-sided smile, “Tragedy is everywhere.”

“The romance will come for us, too,” JB said, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Jeremy scrunched up his face, staring resolutely at the bowl before him. “Ick. Can’t it not?”

“You were the one that agreed to marry me,” JB said, her easy smile dimming.

“I didn’t agree to…” Jeremy trailed off, words failing him. “Anything _else_.”

JB cocked her head to the side, scrutinising him. He had been avoiding looking at her directly before; now he seemed unable to even lift his head up from his work. His hands trembled as they worked the paste in the bowl.

“How did you think your plan would go?” she asked, treading carefully.

“Honestly? I didn’t think anyone would be dumb enough to ask someone they’ve never met to marry them,” Jeremy said.

“But if they did?” JB pressed.

“Then I would assume they were just doing it to get Pran and he would handle all the gross stuff.”

The response only spawned further questions in JB’s mind but the clomping of feet approaching feet on the stone floor made her think twice about voicing any of them. Jeremy slipped away to tend the now bubbling pot, poking the contents with a spoon like a witch waving a wand over a cauldron. Everett peered into the kitchen, not bothering to hide a sneer of disgust as he spotted Jeremy.  

“Where’s Shiloh?” Everett asked, stepping inside and glancing around as though expecting to see Shiloh peeking behind a sack of flour.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” JB said, drumming her fingers on the table. There was no hope of getting anything more out of Jeremy with anyone else around. “Shoo.”

“I care,” Jeremy said, sourly. “He’s supposed to be helping.”

“Great, so now I have to eat whatever garbage you’ve made,” Everett said, draping himself on a stool.

“Feel free to starve,” Jeremy said. “I won’t take it personally.”

“I’d rather starve than eat whatever swill you’re making.”

“What are you making?” JB asked, intervening before their back and forth got any more heated. “Other than…carrots in water. And wet flour in a bowl.”

“The vegetables are boiling,” Jeremy said. “They’re not staying in the water.”

“Seriously?” Everett said, turning his attention to JB. “Even I knew that. Have you never been in a kitchen before?”

“Of course I have,” JB said. “But I’ve never thought about what actually goes on in them.”

“Fucking knew it,” Everett said, putting his hands on his hips. “Lynn’s made us plan meals and calculate costs for family dining and for entertaining, but do women have to think about that shit?”

“Nope,” JB said, cheerily. “Too busy running the country and picking out cute guys to do that stuff for us.”

“You’ll be lucky if whatever bastard you end up with doesn’t serve you poison. Speaking of which,” Everett said, glancing over at Jeremy before sliding from his stool, “I’m going to go tell Nate that we’re eating in town tonight.”

“You’re leaving?” Jeremy said, .

“Obviously,” Everett said. “I can’t tell Nate if he’s not here, can I?”

Jeremy opened his mouth. JB could tell what he was planning; getting into a bickering match with Everett was safer than being left with her to continue their earlier conversation. She swept in before he could volley whatever insult he was concocting.

“That’s right,” she agreed. “You’d better find him soon. I bet Nate isn’t a fan of last minute changes to plans.”

Jeremy just sighed as Everett left the room. He still had his back to JB and was poking at the bubbling pot of vegetables with a spoon.

“So,” JB said, “As we were saying, before the interruption-“

“Hang on,” Jeremy said, finally moving from the stove. He began rummaging in a cupboard. “I think we might have some rat poison.”

“You think you can make me drink it?”

“No, but I can,” he said, grimly. “Or I could, if I could find it.”

“Or,” JB said, “You can talk to me and tell me what the limits are. What is it about this situation that has you so upset?”

“I’d rather have the poison.” He shut the cupboard doors with a sigh. “But life isn’t letting go of me that easily.”

“Talking about what it is that upsets you also upsets you,” JB said, nodding. “Got it. But do you genuinely want the whole thing called off?”

Jeremy dropped his gaze to the ground, one hand still resting on the cupboard door. The question hung over them, expanding with every passing second of silence. Silence that was broken by a polite clearing of a throat.

“Excuse me,” Lynn said. “Jeremy, I think we need to talk.”

JB closed her eyes, her hands balling into fists. The chance to make headway had, once again, been snatched from her. She took a deep breath and forced a smile as she turned to Lynn.

“That’s funny,” she said, “Because that’s just what Jeremy and I were doing, but we keep being interrupted-“

“Jeremy,” Lynn said, his voice clipped. “Come with me to the meeting room. JB, I’ll write to let you know when you can next visit.”

He turned and left the room, Jeremy at his heels. JB dashed after them, her feet slipping on the worn stone slabs.

“What did I do?” JB asked. “I can wait until after you’ve had your meeting-“

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Lynn said, not bothering to turn back to her. “But this is not about you. This is about their conduct.”

“’Their?’” JB echoed, following Lynn and Jeremy up the stairs.

“Jeremy and Pran,” Lynn said. “Your fiancés? I heard about their plan.”

“Of course you did,” Jeremy said, his voice as flat as if Lynn had stated that rain fell from the sky. JB, on the other hand, had questions.

“How?” she asked, frowning. “It was just me and Jeremy down there. And I know Pran’s a blabbermouth, but-“

“JB,” Lynn said, holding the front door open. JB saw that her carriage was drawn up and ready to go. “Goodbye.”


End file.
